


and i knew that you were here to stay

by capebretons



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Flirting, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capebretons/pseuds/capebretons
Summary: "Talking to you gives me a rash," Jack's saying, and he's grinning, because over the phone, Connor can't see how stupid he makes Jack."What doesn't give you a rash," Connor shoots back, and he's laughing, because he's not afraid to let Jack know how much he loves him.





	

"Talking to you gives me a rash," Jack's saying, and he's grinning, because over the phone, Connor can't see how stupid he makes him.

"What  _ doesn't  _ give you a rash," Connor shoots back, and he's laughing, because he's not afraid to let Jack know how much he loves him.

"Pine nuts," Jack says, flopping back onto his bed. "Unlike  _ some  _ people."

"I can't believe you're making fun of me for having an allergy."

"You're so perfect," Jack rolls his eyes. "I gotta find something."

"I am  _ not  _ perfect," Connor says, with the practiced patience of someone who has had to say that his entire life.

"Okay, I'll bite," Jack grins. "Give me four flaws, right now."

"Four is such a random number."

"Okay, you're argumentative. That's one. Look, McDavid, I won't do all the work for you. Everyone's always saying that you're such an underachiever, I didn't want to believe them, but now-"

"Fine," Connor's actually giggling, because he's lame and cute and Jack has his face in a pillow. 

Jack's back in Buffalo, living with Sam, the start of the season just a few days away. All the nervous, giddy energy of his rookie year is gone, as is all of the bullshit drama with Connor. 

Look. Jack never hated him, but he never really liked him all that much, either. They never clicked. Yeah, they were, like, friends. They texted each other  _ congrats  _ after they were drafted. It's just, like. Jack never really saw much there.

And then he got the call from Team North America.

Jack really doesn't even know if he can describe it. He guesses, maybe, that the universe was just like,  _ okay, it's time for you to be friends,  _ and suddenly they were. They watched all of Stranger Things together in Connor's hotel room, they chirped each other about their shitty teams, and yeah, one time, they made out in an elevator.

Jack had gotten off that elevator, face burning, prepared to never look at Connor again. He'd fucked up, surely. He'd fucked up, and he'd gotten a little crush on Canada's boyfriend, and he kissed him. It was stupid. 

Not stupid enough, though, to not do it again.

They made out some more, traded blowjobs in Jack's hotel room, and they were probably gonna fuck, too, if they didn't get eliminated. And then they had to pack their shit, and all plans of Connor's dick in Jack's ass were put on hold. 

"Don't, um," Connor had said, his voice low, as all the boys were in the hotel lobby, waiting for taxis to the airport. "Don't, like, disappear. I want to, um."

"Yeah, man, sure," Jack had said, panic rising in his throat. Because he was already fucking in love with the kid, there was no need to make a big deal about it.

Connor had told Jack that he loved him a week after the tournament was over. It was during one of their nightly phone calls, because Connor had turned Jack into one of  _ those  _ people now. He'd said it softly, unashamed, and didn't seem all that bothered when Jack didn't say it back.

Jack  _ wanted _ to. Of course he did. He loves Connor McDavid. He loves his weird teeth and his bad skin and his beautiful hands. ( _ Oh, Christ, Connor's hands. _ ) He loves his dumb laugh and his golden-retriever heart and how fucking strong he is. Jack loves Connor so much it hurts sometimes. He feels full to bursting with it, like, if he were to slice his finger open, Connor would spill out. It's horrible and stressful and Jack has never been so happy.

He just. Can't tell him.

Because if Connor knows, Connor  _ knows _ . And then Connor will realize just how much better he can do. All of Canada is on its knees for this kid. Who, in their right mind, would settle for somebody like Jack? Connor has always been better, more. Jack knows that. He knows that.

"So, wait," Connor's saying, and Jack's listening, of course he's listening. "Do I have to name three flaws now, or four?"

"I'll say three," Jack sighs, magnanimous. "Because you're so pretty."

" _ Stop _ ," Connor groans, but he's totally loving it. "Okay. Um."

"Take your time, baby," Jack sighs, picking at a hangnail. "Long distance phone calls are super cheap, you know."

"Sorry, sorry," Connor's actually apologizing, and Jesus Christ, Jack would take this kid home to meet his parents. "Okay. I always pee in the ocean when I go to the beach."

"Everybody does that, Conny, be real," Jack's trying really hard not to laugh.

"Really?" Connor sounds astounded. "Oh. Well. Okay. Um. I'm not from Massachusetts?"

"Good flaw," Jack nods. "That's a good one."

"Knew you'd like it," Connor's definitely grinning now.

"One more, honey."

"I'm not good at talking about my feelings," Connor finishes, and wow, he didn't have to do that.

"McEmo," is all Jack says, and judging from the sigh on Connor's end, it wasn't the answer he wanted. "What? Con, nobody's good at talking about their feelings."

"Well, you're certainly not."

"Nail on the head, baby," Jack sighs, rolling onto his stomach to see the time on his alarm clock. "Shit. It's getting late here."

"Oh, sorry," Connor's two hours behind in Edmonton, which isn't even all that bad, but Jack's gotta sleep sometime. 

"No worries," Jack replies, climbing under the covers. "Get some sleep, you fuckin' need it. Last time we FaceTimed, I thought you were a corpse for the first fifteen minutes. I was like,  _ shit, that's a corpse _ . But in the end, it was you. Thank God."

"You're so full of shit," Connor doesn't sound annoyed anymore, just content. "Okay. Good night." And there's this little pause, because there always is, right before he says, "I love you."

Jack winces. "Good night, Connor," is all he can say, and he hangs up first.

 

Connor is named captain of the Edmonton Oilers. Jack's driving to practice when he sees them - those awkward, uncomfortable pictures of Connor. He looks  _ young.  _ He looks like an infant. He also looks scared out of his mind, but, you know. Connor always looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Connor never told him.

Irrationally, Jack's pissed. What the fuck? If Connor loves him so much, why wouldn't he tell him? He should be able to tell Jack anything, especially if it's something as huge as this. Because even if Jack can't say it back, Connor is still his friend. Connor's still one of his  _ best  _ friends. Friends tell each other shit like this.

A year ago, Jack would have declined Connor's phone call that night, let their Snapchat streak die, and ghosted the fuck out of his life. But, unfortunately, he's mature now, and loves Connor too much to disappear, so he texts Connor instead:  _ congratulations?????? wtf?????? _

He knows Connor won't text back right away. During team events, he hands his phone over to the Oilers' PR lady. Once, over FaceTime, Jack had asked what she must think, if she sees Jack's name popping up on Connor's screen all the time. Connor had laughed and told him that Jack's name wasn't in his contacts. Jack's number was under the American flag emoji. And then Jack had asked Connor if he knew any other Americans, and Connor had looked him straight in the eye and said  _ no _ , and that's probably when Jack fell in love with him.

Connor's texted him back by the time practice is over. It's just six upside-down-smiling emojis. Sums it up, Jack guesses.

_ Thought of some more flaws 4 u,  _ Jack replies.

_ Pls share w the class Jack,  _ Connor responds, because Connor thinks he's funny.

_ U didn't tell ur boyfriend that u were about to b named captain _ , Jack sends.

_ Who's my boyfriend?  _ Connor sends back, a few seconds later, and Jack gives himself a goddamn anxiety attack. Fuck. They'd never talked about it before, had they? They'd never, like, shook hands and nodded and said  _ boyfriend.  _

So, in some last ditch-effort of self-preservation, Jack shoots in the dark and replies  _ Noah Hanifin _ because no, Connor probably didn't tell Hanny that he was about to be named captain. 

_ Oh,  _ Connor sends back, after waiting an inappropriate four minutes.  _ Yeah must have slipped my mind _

Jack groans out loud and wishes he were braver.

 

The season starts with three losses and one win, against Toronto. Jack's happy to see Auston again, except Auston is a fucking traitor who just asks about Connor all throughout their post-game dinner, like he and Connor aren't Facebook friends.

When they play the Coyotes, it's more of the same. Dylan Strome waggles his disgusting eyebrows and asks Jack how Connor's doing, as the ref is trying to break up a fight nowhere near them.

"You talk to him more than I do, dummy," Jack says lightly, re-adjusting his gloves so he can have something to do with his hands.

"Not true," Dylan shrugs. "I don't see it, but he says you're charming enough that he calls you every single night."

"I see it," Jack says shortly. He'd never really minded Connor all that much, but talking to Dylan Strome was like talking to asphalt. Dylan Strome is the fourth best out of the three Strome brothers.

Dylan laughs, loud and dumb. "He likes you. A lot."

"Shocking to you and me both," Jack sighs.

"No," Dylan's looking at him sideways, eyes squinted. "I get it. He's always liked cocky assholes."

"Weird he never had a crush on you, then," Jack rolls his eyes, trying to subtly skate away from this conversation.

Dylan's still looking at him. Jack might call it  _ calculating,  _ but he's not sure if Dylan even knows what a calculator is. "Hey," he calls out, even though Jack can't be more than fifteen feet away from him, Jesus Christ. "Stop jerking him around."

Jack freezes. "The fuck are you talking about, Stromer?"

Dylan's not smiling, so he's probably not fucking around. "If you give a shit about him, stop fucking with him. Like. He's not going to wait around for you forever."

"You have no idea-"

"Connor's my friend, idiot," Dylan skates closer, close enough that he can see the sad attempt of a mustache on his upper lip. "Stop being a dick. He thinks you don't even like him."

"I'm not," Jack says, which is a stupid thing to say, because he's not about to argue with this simpleton, and he already knows he's being a dick. Connor McDavid deserves somebody who's ready to scream from the top of a mountain about how fucking pumped they are that Connor McDavid chose them. And don't doubt him, Jack  _ would  _ climb the shit out of that mountain. He'd keep his fucking mouth shut, though, because then everyone would know that Connor chose Jack, and once Connor came to his senses, everyone would know that Jack wasn't good enough. Again.

 

"I'm really sorry about this," Jack's driving home, and Connor's with him, sort of, over his car's bluetooth. "But I hate your best friend."

"Me too," Connor says, easily enough. "What did Dylan do?"

Jack ignores the question. "I think he thinks he's in a John Hughes movie. But, like, he pictures himself as the villain, maybe? Doesn't he know that the villains lose, like, every time? Unless it's  _ Pretty in Pink,  _ because I'm not even sure there's a clear winner in that one, but-"

"I didn't know you liked Molly Ringwald," Connor remarks, because he is so, so stupid and amazing.

"Don't fall in love with me about it," Jack says, without thinking.

But Connor just laughs. "Dude, I'm already there. Like, I'm  _ so  _ there."

"That's gross, Connor," he says flatly. 

"I don't care," and Connor sounds like he's got cartoon hearts for eyes, and Jack is once again bamboozled by how the hell Connor could be in love with him. It doesn't make sense.

Jack steels himself, because yeah, Dylan Strome is annoying, but Dylan Strome has a point. Jack would rather throw himself into the dumpster fire that is the Toronto Maple Leafs than have Connor think he's not wanted. "I miss you," Jack says, because it's honest, and it's not so hard to say.

There's a moment of stunned silence. "Actually?" Connor asks, and his voice is quiet.

Jack is momentarily horrified that Connor's unsure about that cold, hard fact.  _ Of course  _ Jack misses him. Once you have something great, don't you want it all the time? "Yes,  _ actually _ ," he says, quick, and, for some-reason, aggravated. "You fucking loser, of course I miss you. You are so dumb sometimes, Connor, Jesus Christ. It is a wonder you've made it as far as you have. Seriously, how have you not been kidnapped yet? Do you just stumble through life like a goddamn Disney princess, talking to all the little woodland creatures-"

"I miss you, too, Jack," Connor says softly, and Jack shuts the fuck up.

 

So yeah, Dylan Strome has a point. If Connor's that fucking shocked that Jack misses him, Jack has to step up his game. Jack may not be his boyfriend, but if he wants to keep up this charade of maybe being worthy of Connor's affection, he's gotta put in a little more work.

He's gonna be nicer. Well, no, probably not. But he's gonna try and be a little more honest. 

Because even if he's not worthy, he wants to be. He wants to be the kind of person that Connor  _ could  _ love, maybe. But Jack Eichel was never gifted with social grace, so one night, over FaceTime, he just blurts out, "You're my boyfriend."

Connor really shouldn't look that pleased. "What am I gonna tell Noah?"

Jack grins, even though Connor can see. Connor can see how happy he makes Jack. "Fuck Noah," he says, mock-gallant. "You and me, baby."

"I love you so much," Connor's smiling helplessly, and he's in bed, even though it's only nine p.m. his time. He's wearing a Sabres sweatshirt, the one he won't admit to stealing from Jack during the World Cup. 

"You are batshit insane," is what Jack decides is an acceptable thing to say to that.

Connor's smile widens. "Clearly."

Maybe a half hour after they hang up that night, Jack gets a text from Dylan Strome. It's a thumbs-up emoji. Jack rolls his eyes hard enough that he's surprised they don't get stuck in the back of his head, like Jack's mom always said they would. Dylan Strome has no place in his relationship. He really shouldn't be here at all. This is not his area of expertise. Life in general is not Dylan's area of expertise.

He can't really be all that mad, though. Because Connor McDavid is his boyfriend, and when someone that amazing picks you, you have to be a little amazing, too, don't you?

 

So Jack works. He plays hard, he's a good roommate to Sam, and he finally accepts Dylan's friend request on Facebook. He's in the gym every morning, he calls his parents every week, and he sends Connor more heart emojis than he ever has. He tries to be good enough. He tries to be lovable.

He tries looking at himself and seeing the parts of him that Connor loves. Connor's got such a dumb thing for Jack's freckles, and he really likes Jack's ears, too. And just one time, Jack says it out loud, "Connor loves you, you fucking idiot." It's embarrassing and it's stupid, but that doesn't mean he stops trying.

 

Connor and his merry band of first-rounders come to Buffalo in November. Connor's  _ so _ pumped. He patiently and politely waits for Jack to invite him over, and when Jack does, he shows up on the doorstep, hands stuffed in the pockets of his ill-fitting jeans and grinning too wide for his narrow face.

Jack adores him.

"Wrong house," Jack says, because his instinct is to be the worst. "I didn't order a first-over-all. Second-over-alls only, here."

"That's funny," Connor says flatly, but he still waits to be actually invited inside before he steps into the foyer.

Sam and Connor talk for a minute in the living room, because Canada, and Jack is so fucking scared of how much he loves Connor. God. Connor's  _ here.  _ Connor's in his house, wearing those awful jeans. Jack really needs to get him some good jeans. He'd be doing the Lord's work.

Finally, he gets Connor into his bedroom. Connor won't sit on the bed like a normal person, just walks around the room like he's in a museum. Jack cleaned, of course, but he didn't think to take down the embarrassing childhood pictures, or the picture of him and Connor from draft day. Dylan was in the picture, too, but Jack cut him out, like, a long time ago. It's much better when it's just him and Connor.

Connor looks at that picture for a long time, before he turns around and looks at Jack with that same kind of intensity. "You haven't kissed me yet, you know," he says, offhandedly.

"That's easily amendable," he says, flopping back on to his bed. "Come here, you giant virgin."

"Not a virgin," Connor sighs, but he comes anyway.

He settles himself on top of Jack, legs bracketing Jack's hips. He's a steady pressure exactly where Jack's dreamed about, and Jack can't help but reach up to trace the line of Connor's jaw.

"You're here," he says, voice too soft, before he can stop himself. He doesn't find himself regretting it.

Connor smiles, warm like sunshine, and nods once. "Yeah, I'm right here."

He leans down, gently guided by Jack's hand still on Connor's jaw, and presses his mouth to Jack. Once again, Jack is absolutely  _ floored  _ by how well this boy kisses. Slow and sweet enough to make Jack want, to make Jack  _ hurt. _

"Missed you," Jack says, hoarse, when Connor pulls away.

"Yeah?" Connor smiles gently. "You told me."

"Kiss me again," Jack's pleading, really. He's got no illusions about himself, not anymore. Connor can have whatever the fuck he wants. Jack will give him anything.

He kisses Jack. Connor has always been so gracious.

They make out for a long time, with no real intent to go much further. Jack is hard as hell in his shorts, but Connor knows that, and Connor's not trying to go any further, so Jack's cool. They end up just turning on the Cowboys-Giants game, not talking much, but Connor's holding Jack's hand, so Jack feels brave.

"Why do you love me?" He asks, and it's every single bit of bravery he has to do it, even if he can't look at Connor when he says it.

Connor's frowning, which, no. "What do you mean?"

"Christ, don't make me say it again."

"No, seriously," Connor's sitting up straight, turning to look at Jack face-on. "Like. Are you asking what it is about you that I love? Or, like, what makes me love you?"

Jack would welcome death, at this point. "I don't know. Both?"

Connor's still frowning a little, but he's always frowning a little. There's a stretch of silence, and all they can hear is a Geico commercial, until Connor opens his mouth again. "I guess it's the same answer, isn't it?" He says, and his voice is so quiet, Jack strains to hear. "I love you, because you're you. You're mean to me and you're sarcastic and you play really beautiful hockey, but you're also, like, the softest, most generous, most beautiful person there is. I love you. I don't know how not to."

"Oh," is all Jack can say.

Connor's still frowning a little. "And I know you love me."

"You have a lot of confidence in yourself," Jack's aiming for teasing, and misses by a long shot.

Connor shrugs. "Yeah. I know you don't think you can say it, and I'm really not sure why, but I can guess it's probably a stupid reason, because you're pretty stupid, sometimes."

"And you're fine with that?" Jack asks, totally fucking amazed by this man.

Connor shrugs. "Until Noah Hanifin decides to win my heart back, I'm stuck with you, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Jack says, and it comes out a lot shakier than it should, but at least it comes out at all. "Yeah, you're stuck with me."

 

The Oilers win it, that next day. Connor is amazing, and gets two goals, and Jack is so stupid for him, it's unreal. Ryan catches Jack staring at Connor, and makes the most disgusted, annoyed face, but Ryan totally loves Jack, so it's fine.

He doesn't really get to say much to him before he flies back to Edmonton, but they'll talk that night, anyway.

It's well past midnight when Connor finally calls.

"You awake?" Connor asks, stupidly.

"Connor, honey, I picked up the phone."

"Well, I didn't know," he says, defensive, before turning to mock sympathy. "How are you handling the loss?"

"Like, super terribly," Jack lies. "I was just so distracted by the captain."

Connor sighs, like he knows what's coming. "What, because he's so ugly?"

Jesus, is Jack that predictable? " _ No _ ," Jack says pointedly. "He was really cute. Did you even see him?"

"Must have missed him," Connor says quietly. There's a second too long of silence, after, and Connor sighs again. "I miss you," he says, gentle and so far away. "I really loved seeing you."

"Me, too," Jack says, surprising himself. "I want to kiss you right now. I forgot how good you are."

"Everyone always says that."

Jack groans, because Connor is impossible. "You're like, deceptively full of shit, you know that? Looking at you, one wouldn't be like,  _ that young man is full of shit.  _ But once I get to know you, it's like a goldmine of shit. Just. Chock full."

"This is coming from Jack Eichel."

"Glad you know who you're talking to. Very perceptive, you are."

"I don't let much get past me," Connor agrees, and Jack knows he's smiling.

"I love you," Jack says, helpless, because he knows he can now. He knows it'll be okay, after.

There's a beat.

"I love you, too," Connor says softly, and for one perfect moment, it feels like Connor's with him, and Jack can feel the sunlight that comes with him. "I'm glad you're not scared anymore."

"Oh, I am one thousand percent always terrified," Jack says, because he is. "But. Like. I do love you. And you deserve to hear that."

There's another stretch of happy silence, until Connor says, "Look who can talk about their feelings now."

"I'm a changed man," Jack rolls his eyes. "And that was your flaw, anyway."

"You're right, sorry," Connor laughs. "I forgot that you're completely flawless."

"Yeah, well," Jack grins, because he said it, and the world hasn't fallen apart around him yet. "Don't forget again."

Connor's still laughing when he says that he loves Jack, and Jack doesn't hesitate to say it back.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Magic Bronson's "Bubble Games," which is, like, one of my most favorite songs ever.
> 
> I also really do love Dylan Strome. I promise I do.
> 
> Thank you all again for the support, it means more than you know :)


End file.
